


Nest Building

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [43]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Antisemitism, Deaf Dean Winchester, F/M, Racism, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 12:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Coulters have moved from Palo Alto, California to their new home in Austin, Texas. One new neighbor, Emma Stein, is overjoyed to finally have a girl her own age who doesn't mind the fact that she's Jewish. Dean's no stranger to being treated differently because he's deaf. Unfortunately, the realtor failed to inform the Coulters that five families on the block aren't big fans of people who are 'different' - and the neighbors might be the least of their worries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nest Building

Emma Stein was one of eleven girls who lived on Burnt Prairie Court in Austin, Texas. There were two girls her age on the block, but they wouldn't play with her. She never understood why that was – it wasn't for lack of trying – she'd gone up and asked them several times when she'd seen the girls outside with their siblings. They always said no. The boys who lived across the street from her, Aaron and Oliver Jeso, told her that the other boys on the block wouldn't play with them either. 

That was different. Those boys had each other. Not to mention the Jeso boys were almost never around outside anyway, unless it was biking either to school or the library. If they weren't there, they helped out at their parents' restaurant. But Emma had renewed hope – the Pattersons had moved away two months ago and their house stood empty and waiting for a family to move in.

More than anything, Emma wanted a friend who lived close by. Her parents' friends had kids, but they all lived too far away to see that often. Having a friend move into the Patterson's old house was her birthday wish, her first star she saw at night wish, and her penny in the fountain wish. 

On one side of the Patterson House, (she'd call it that until new people moved in) there were a bunch of rose bushes and on the other, a massive bunch of forsythia – forming the perfect little hideout, maybe. What she really knew was a good hideout was the swing-set left behind when the Pattersons moved – Mr. Patterson had made it himself and Emma had gotten to play on it once when the Patterson's grand-kids visited.

Emma watched for a moving van or car every day once her dad pointed out the 'SOLD' marker on the 'For Sale' sign in the yard. The first indication of any activity at the place was on a Friday near the end of May when four men piled out of an SUV, carrying cans of paint. They came off and on all that weekend and one of them came over to ask if they could borrow her father's lawn mower. Of course her dad said yes, and the men were nice enough to return it completely refueled. Still, no family had shown up to claim the house – but she distinctly remembered seeing a smear of pink paint on the man who returned the mower's shirt. 

The five other families (the ones with all the kids) who lived on the block left for some sort of revival with their church on Memorial Day weekend and the absence of thirty children from the block made it almost frighteningly quiet. Emma was out on her driveway under the careful eye of her grandfather when a sedan drove down the street and pulled into the Patterson's drive. “The new people are here, granddad.” 

“I see that.” He got up from his chair and crossed the short distance to stand next to her. As they watched, a man and woman got out of the car, though it was hard to tell much about them, being across the street and two houses down. 

Emma craned her neck as the woman turned to open the rear passenger door and out of the backseat came a girl who was too small to be any older than Emma's exalted age of five. The man came around and hugged the woman before picking up the girl. “Can we go say hello?”

“Not right now.” Her grandfather gave her a slight hug. “They will probably be very busy unpacking and getting settled.” He nodded as a moving van pulled into the driveway. “Perhaps later this evening, or tomorrow.”

Emma pursed her lips and then turned to look up at him. “Can we bake them cookies?”

The old man smiled. “I think we can do that.” He took her hand and led her into the house.

*  
Emma took her grandfather's hand as they crossed the street and walked up the driveway of the new neighbor's house. The sedan from yesterday was gone, but an orange slug-bug car was parked in the garage. A woman was looking through a box and frowning as the door to the house opened and the little girl came out, carrying a plastic trash bag. So she was near Emma's age, even if on closer look, by size she'd think the girl was three. The girl caught sight of them and grinned. “Hello.”

The woman looked in their direction and straightened up. “Good morning.” Her voice sounded oddly accented. “May I help you?”

“Hello.” Emma's grandfather replied. “I'm Erick Stein and this is my granddaughter, Emma. My son's family and I live across the street.” He held out the plate of cookies. “We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” 

The woman took the plate as the girl went to stand next to her. “Thank you, very much. My name is Ignacia Coulter, and this is my daughter, Liesel.” Her gaze shifted to the drive. “And now here comes my husband, Dean.” Emma turned as she heard a car door slam and then the man who came out made some odd gestures with his hands. What was he doing? 

Mrs. Coulter blinked for a moment and then turned to her grandfather. “I can't quite place your accent – Czech?” 

“Ano! Yes!” Her granddad's smile widened as Mr. Coulter came into the garage. “Romanian?”

“Da.” She set the plate on the roof of the car. 

“Hello.” Mr. Coulter sounded funny too. “Thank you for coming over and saying hello and welcome to the neighborhood.” He made the motions with his hands as he talked. “Which house did you say was yours?”

“The one with the large oak tree in front.” Emma replied and then turned to Liesel. “I'm five years old, how old are you?”

“I'll be five in...” She looked up at her dad, making motions with her hands and then, must have gotten some sort of answer. “Twenty-four days.” Her dad made another series of gestures and it was on the tip of Emma's tongue to ask what was going on when Liesel spoke up again. “Wanna see my room?”

“Uh...” She turned to her granddad, who nodded. “Okay.” 

Liesel took her hand and let her into the house. It smelled faintly of paint and something else, whatever was cooking in the oven, she guessed. They went up the stairs and the girl led her into a room with walls the color of pink lemonade. A raggedy teddy bear sat in an old rocking chair – and oddly, there was a baby monitor on the dresser. “It's not all unpacked yet. We just got here yesterday.”

“I saw you come in – where did you used to live?” She rocked on her heels. “I've always lived on this block.”

“We lived in Palo Alto – that's in California.” She sat down on the floor and Emma did the same. “It took us two days to get here.” She rubbed her nose. “I already like it better here. We didn't have a yard at our old home.”

“No yard?” Emma stared at her wide-eyed. “Did you live in... oh... what are they called... an apartment?”

“Uh huh. We lived in an apartment.” She looked around the room and grinned. “This is way, way bigger than my last room. I didn't even have a closet in my old room!”

She blinked. “No closet?” She shook her head. “Wow.” 

“Are there other kids here? Besides you and me?” Liesel gave her a look that reminded Emma of a puppy.

“There's other kids but...” She felt her face fall. “They don't like me. Or the Jeso boys, they live two doors down from you.”

“Why don't they like you?” She slowly folded her arms and she got a stubborn look on her face. “You seem nice, why aren't they nice too?”

“I think it's because I'm... I'm Jewish. I don't know why they don't like the Jesos.” Emma felt her shoulders slump. “Uh... why do you and your parents make those gestures with your hands – you've done it a few times since we came up here and...”

“My daddy's deaf. That means he can't hear. The hand stuff is American Sign Language – it's the main way we talk.” Liesel hugged her knees. “What's Jewish mean?”

“It's a religion.” She blinked. “It's... like, do you go to a church?”

“Yes, but I don't know what church we'd go to here, we used to go to Saint Ben's, I'd have to ask my parents where we're going to go here.” She frowned. “Wait, I know something about Jewish... you're the Moses people, right?”

She stared at the smaller girl, shocked. “How'd you know about Moses?”

“My mama and I like the movie _The Prince of Egypt._ We watch it at least once a month.” She grinned. 

*  
Moving to Texas was like getting a clean slate in Ignacia's opinion. Dean was out of school and was starting work. Liesel would head off to kindergarten in August. She'd start work in a new gym – and now the three of them were living in a house. A real house – something she'd not gotten to do since she was her daughter's age. She was glad that her daughter had already made a friend – but two weeks after moving to Texas, Ignacia suddenly had the feeling that there was something rather wrong with the way things on this block were.

It began with the return of the five families who had been on vacation when they'd moved in. In their absence, the Coulters had met the Steins, the Jesos, the McBrides, who lived next door, and the Kendrells, who lived across the street. For two weeks, the block had been mostly quiet and with the influx of thirty more children to the street seemed to raise the noise factor by several volumes. But the odd thing Ignacia found was that the girls of the five absent families went up on one side of the street and the boys, on the other. She never saw the Jeso boys with the others, which didn't make sense, as there looked to be a few boys who were close to their ages. 

On each of the five houses where the children went, the mothers stood on the porch, waiting for the arrival of their kids. It reminded Ignacia of that planet in _A Wrinkle in Time_ that she couldn't remember the name of. The boys rode bikes, the girls rode scooters – and for a few days of this happening, it finally came to her what was so off-putting about the whole thing. The children walked or rode – none of them skipped, jumped or danced. When they played sports, the girls were on one side of the street, the boys on the other. 

It was almost creepy. 

She and Liesel were in the middle of breaking down boxes in the garage from the move when a woman started up their drive, her six children following behind her like a row of ducklings. She gave her daughter a glance before they stopped and the children fanned out on either side of their mother. “Hello, may I help you?”

Ignacia didn't miss the looks the children tried to hide as they heard her speak. Their mom, however, smiled brightly. “We wanted to come over and say hello. We are the Langley family, we live down the street.”

Liesel stepped up next to her mother, looking the children over. “Hello. We're the Coulters.” 

The woman gave another smile, and there was something Ignacia didn't like in her look. “Are you all settled in? We heard you moved in while we were on vacation.” 

“Yes.” She set a hand on Liesel's back. “I see your children and the others moving along the street almost every day.” 

“That is an interesting accent you have. Where are you from?” It sounded like a very innocent question on the outset – one Ignacia was used to. 

“Romania.” She straightened her shoulders. “I am curious – are the children still going to school?”

“Oh yes, we believe in school all year long. Most of the children on this block, with the exception of the Jesos and Emma Stein are home-schooled. Do you home school your children?” The woman was smiling again – and the smile was starting to make Ignacia nervous. 

“I do not teach my daughter at home. We are fortunate that our church has a school she can attend in the fall.” She pulled Liesel closer to her. “I admire those that teach their children at home, of course, but not everyone is able to do so.” 

“Yes.” Mrs. Langley paused. “Have you ever considered it? We have a bit of a co-op here with schooling and would be glad to welcome you into it if you would like.”

“How am I to work and teach children at the same time?” She felt her spine stiffen. “I also would rather my daughter be in a structured school environment that I can understand.”

“Do you teach Romanian?” The oldest Langley child, a girl, finally broke the silence of the six children.

“No, I work at Marchfield Gymnastics.” Something changed in the faces of the children and their mother – something she couldn't place. 

“How interesting that must be.” Mrs. Langley replied. “We must be getting back home now. It's nearly time for lunch.”

“You have a nice day.” Ignacia replied.

“It was nice to meet you.” Liesel offered as the seven turned and headed back down the driveway. She looked up to her mother and signed. _“Are those weirdos?”_

 _“That's not a nice word, Liesel.”_ She turned back towards the retreating family. “But now that she mentioned it, we should also have some lunch.” They turned and went into the house, shutting the garage door behind them.

*  
Dean was told about the encounter with the Langleys and promptly put it out of his mind. He'd met his fair share of odd families in his life and if any parents could get all six of their children to be well behaved at the same time, well, that alone was impressive to him. However, the mothers of the block must have gotten together because the remaining four families didn't try to make contact with the Coulters in any way. A week before the Fourth of July, however, that changed. 

Dean was in the middle of paperwork when the doorbell rang. Ignacia was at work,helping the senior coaches get a small group of girls ready for a major competition in two weeks and when he opened the door to find one father and one teenage boy standing on his porch, he wasn't sure which family they were. “May I help you?”

“Mr. Coulter?” The man spoke up. 

“Yes?” Dean could tell the man was speaking very deliberately – word had spread fast that he was deaf. “May I help you?”

“I'm James Carmichael, this is my son Caleb, we live right across the street from you.” He indicated the house with blue shutters. 

“Nice to meet you.” Dean was still confused. Why were they coming by? “Is something wrong?”

“Not entirely. Do you have plans for next week?” James's smile was hiding something – Dean could tell right off, and he'd only known the man for a few moments. 

“We were planning on going to the large fireworks display at Lady Bird Lake, but other than that, we are still working on plans.” He paused. “Is there a block party, or something?”

“No, no block party, we just wanted to know if you were setting off any fireworks yourself.” Caleb said. 

“Given what I have seen happen to people who set them off when they aren't paying attention, no.” He shifted his stance. “Is something else going on that I should know about?”

The two exchanged glances. “As a matter of fact... it's about your little girl.”

“Liesel?” Dean felt his eyes widen. What on earth could she have done? “Has she been picking flowers out of your garden? I know a few of the other people on the block let her and she may have gotten confused.”

“No, no it's not that.” James was speaking again. “My son told me she's been dancing in your yard.” 

“And?” Dean failed to see the problem. “Is something wrong with that?”

“It... several other parents and I feel that such a thing is – improper.” James replied.

“She's _five.”_ A gnawing, angry feeling bubbled up in his stomach. It wasn't like when he got angry when someone said something about him being deaf. This was stronger, more centralized. 

“I know you are a good Christian family, Mr. Coulter.” James was saying again. “And well, dancing isn't exactly something that should be...”

Dean suddenly came to the realization of what the man was implying and judging from the look on his neighbors' faces, it must have shown on his as well. “Give me one good reason not to punch both of you in the face right now for connecting my five year old daughter dancing with sex.” 

“I, it's not that...” James shook his head. “It's...”

“Get off my porch.” Dean stepped out of the door and the two backed up. “Get off my property!” He knew his voice had to be shrill and loud. “And stay the hell away from my family!”

The two were almost running as they went down the drive and went back to their house. 

Dean took a few deep breaths to calm himself and was startled to see Moira Jeso standing in his yard.

“You want to yell a little louder, Dean? I don't think my mother-in-law in Bangkok heard you.” She shook her head. “Don't let them get to you. They came and told me one day to stop letting my boys run around without shirts.” 

He repressed a snort. “What did you do?”

“What any mother would. Got them some factor sixty-four sunblock and told them they had to use it all the time.” She turned and headed back to her home.

Dean went back inside and went up to Liesel's room, where she was coloring. “Lis?”

She looked up. “Daddy, why were you yelling?”

“It's not important.” He gave her a smile. “If you're going to dance outside – do it in the backyard, all right?”

“Um... does that include tumbling as well?” She rubbed her nose. “I do more tumbling than dancing outside...”

“Yes.” He nodded. “It's safer in the backyard. Less chance of accidentally going into the street.”

“Okay.” She went back to coloring.

**  
Burnt Prairie Court was an odd street, in Ignacia's opinion. There were a total of ten families, and they were a perfect split in socialization. The Coulters, the Steins, the McBrides, the Jesos and the Kendralls formed one group – the Carmichaels, the Langleys, the Stuarts, the Browns and the Javersons on the other. It was rather frightening to have such a split, in her mind. It reminded her a little too much of her parent's horror stories of growing up during the time of Nicolae Ceaușescu. Granted, she didn't think anyone on the block was a brutal dictator, but the division was there – and it made her sad.

She wasn't sure if those other five mothers wouldn't talk to her because she wasn't a stay at home mom or because she taught gymnastics. Possibly it was both. Being a full-time stay at home mom was on her and Dean's long term plans. As soon as Dean was established enough at the hospital, say, in two years, they would have another baby and she would then settle into doing the full-time mom work. Liesel would be seven – and still young enough for the two of them to do little girl things, like play dress up or whatever it was. Not to mention if the planned but currently non-existent child was a girl, so much the better. 

*  
With him and Ignacia both working, Dean knew that they had to arrange some sort of baby-sitter for Liesel. That help came to them in the form of a man named Jay Gatz. He occasionally went to to their church – he'd also recently moved to Austin and wasn't sure where he wanted to go all the time. He worked from home as a writer and part-time rescuer of wounded animals. Every Monday through Thursday, Jay picked up Lis from school and stayed with her until he or Ignacia came home. 

*  
Jay Gatz picked up his phone and punched in a number. It rang twice before it was answered. 

“Hello?” The voice sounded mildly annoyed.

“Hello, Daniel. How's college life?” He settled down on his worn sofa and a moment later, the stray cat he'd found the other day suffering from an infection settled into his lap.

“This dorm still smells horrendous, Gabriel and the thoughts going through these boys' minds...” He made an exasperated noise. “Question – is Adam Winchester's future supposed to appear blank to me?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Once the connection is made, you lose your ability to see what's going to happen for them.”

“It sucks.” He could hear the frown in Daniel's voice. “That is the correct term, yes?”

“Yes, Daniel. Have you talked to Zachariah?” He rubbed the cat under her chin, smiling when the animal began to purr.

“He says he's far to busy getting things set up in Cincinnati to chat. He's sort of gone whole hog with this assignment.” The lesser angel sighed. “I think I need to find something to release the tension, or something.”

“Well, you could go hang out in a bar, unknowingly save girls from young men with nefarious plans, or something like that.” He sighed. “I'm just checking to see how you're adjusting. I know this assignment is long term and you've not spent a lot of time on Earth.”

“I'm adjusting the best I can.” Daniel let out a breath. “I've got to go, Adam just got back from class.” 

“All right. You be careful up there in Wisconsin, okay?” Gabriel felt more like Daniel's parent saying that, rather than his superior.

“Do my best – uh... I'm supposed to be a fan of these Packers from Green Bay, right?” 

The archangel rolled his eyes. “Yes, Daniel. Very much so.” He hung up and turned his attention to the cat. “Remind me to ask Michael what he was thinking letting someone that green out of Heaven.” 

**  
Between all the moving, the new jobs, the crazy neighbors and everything else, Ignacia wondered if just the absence of one thing would have made her notice something was wrong sooner. She kept telling herself that her doctor had only sent her to another department as a precaution, to double check that whatever was causing this constant flu was something that could be handled quickly and she could get back in time to pick up Liesel from school. It was almost Christmas and she wanted to start baking cookies for their neighbors and get ready for the holiday party she and Moira Jeso were planning. She rubbed her temple and glanced across the waiting room where a woman, close to her own age was reading quietly to a boy who was wearing a knitted cap over his bald head. 

“Ignacia?” She looked up at the sound of her name.

“Dean?” She was confused – what was he doing here? True, this was the same hospital he worked at, but he worked in surgery, not in this place. She'd know if he did.

He sat down next to her and immediately pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Call it emotional support.” 

She straightened up, managing a smile – truth was, she was glad Dean was here. Now they could both find out that this was nothing more than a really stubborn flu and she'd be fine in a few days. _“I thought you were supposed to be in surgery all afternoon.”_

 _“Doctor Morgan called. They said it was more important for me to be here.”_ There was something wrong, Ignacia could tell – what on earth could Dean be so worried about?

 _“It's just a bug, Dean. I' m sure I'll be fine.”_ She gave his knee a squeeze, still smiling. 

_“Annie – you do know what oncology means, don't you?”_ Now her husband looked to be on the verge of tears.

 _“You're scaring me, Dean. What is oncology?”_ A feeling started in her stomach – one far worse than any nervous feeling she'd ever had.

 _“Oncology is the treatment of cancer.”_ Dean reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear, his smile shaky, but sad. _“I'll go in there with you. You don't have to do this alone.”_ He then took both of her hands in his and squeezed them. 

She gave him a brave nod just as the doctor called her name. “Love you.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Love you too.”


End file.
